


Aeipathy

by IvvyQueen



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, for the life of me i cannot bring myself to publish smut still so this is what y'all get for now, one day maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvvyQueen/pseuds/IvvyQueen
Summary: aeipathy (n.) - an enduring and consuming passion.





	Aeipathy

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own FF7, or any of the characters here present. This is just a work for fun and I gain nothing from posting it.**

She knew, unless he warned her first, that she could always find him in his apartment, looking out the window, reading or doing any other mundane activity. He’d keep his phone at hand’s reach, waiting for her _Can I come over tonight?_ text.

There was never any warning from when an argument would come either, it was always the same, _you need to become empress of Wutai, you're a terrible daughter_, and dozens other sentences that would strike her heart dead-center. She was bitter on her retorts, but she had no energy for it that night, she opted for just walking out, preparing her bags and sent a direct message over to him.

That night was almost no different, another fight with her father had driven her away yet again. She traced over the stars’ light, his reply was the same, and she made way to his place. It was just their unspoken thing, she would say to herself, as she headed over. 

She knocked, her eyes tracing around the doorframe she’d often lean against while waiting for him to open. A certain somberness loomed her that night, every fight and argument would turn to be more exhausting than the previous. She’d escape to Vincent more than often, almost every few days if she bothered to count. He would not interrupt her, he would not accuse her or give unwelcome advice, he would just listen, comfort and be there, all she wanted for a few hours, she could find it in him.

There was no need for a second knock, he knew it was her, there was never somebody else he’d let in this late unless it was an absolute emergency. His ungloved hand twisted the knob and pulled. She brought him a good kind of company; his apartment sometimes gets too quiet, his head becoming louder, so her late-night visits were of no problem for him. And there was never a need for him to say more than he intended, no pretentions or expectations from either of them that they could not meet or had to fake.

‘‘You look tired tonight.’’ Vincent’s deep voice oozed the usual gentleness of him, she sighed and tried to meet his eyes, but it became impossible for her this time. How could she not to stare at him; his black shirt laid at the edge of his bed, his cape nowhere to be seen.

‘‘Are you coming in, Yuffie?’’ Her dark eyes traced every inch in a matter of painfully-blissful seconds; wishing it were her hands tracing it instead. Despite her knees turning weak, she stepped in, her eyes never leaving him.

She knew nothing of how he looked like a sculpted statue come to life, she _assumed_ he was in good shape like the others, from all the fighting they would endure. Her eyes travelled from his abs to his chest, lowered to his waist, his equally-perfect back and a v-line that made her curse to the heavens why she had picked that night, out of all, to come over.

She sat down on the bed, like every night, eyeing the cup of coffee he’d always prepare for her. A knot grew bigger in her chest, her heart _thumping_ harder against it, even her breathing dragged out, something she didn’t notice until she felt herself running out of air.

‘‘You don’t seem talkative tonight.’’ He moved Cerberus to its rightful place, on the table just five steps away from his bed.

‘‘A-Ah, sorry Vince, I guess I’m not feeling my best tonight,’’ She took off her headband and placed it on the same table Cerberus was, even his muscled biceps framed his torso in the best way possible. There was nothing in his body that she could criticize, nothing was too big, too muscular, too skinny, _Fuck you, Vincent_, she frowned, pondering if he had noticed her blushing had yet to fade.

‘‘I thought the reason you came over was because you never felt your best,’’ He cornered her a little against the wall; even if he hunched, he’d still tower over her. On most days, she wouldn’t mind or joke about how her neck strained a little, that night she craved he’d just take her instead.

‘‘Is there something else on your mind?’’ She clutched a little harder to the wall, no words came out of her mouth no matter what she tried to articulate. His red eyes almost seemed to shine under the faint moonlight, and they travelled all over her, but always returning to hover on her lips.

He could read her like an open book, Vincent knew Yuffie always had a hard time hiding strong emotions, she was loud when she wanted to be, expressive, there was never an ounce of fear when it came to saying or showing how she felt. And right now, with the silence surround the 3-room apartment, he could tell she needed him just as bad as he needed her, that same openness played against her, or perhaps, on her favor really.

Every reservation came to pass when their lips met for the first time; she hesitated, wondered if it was okay or what she should do. He pulled back and waited for her to react, though he seemed calm, he worried he had done something wrong.

She threw her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with a passion no one would suspect of them. Stumbling back onto the bed, his arms lifted her from the ground and brought her to his eye-level, savoring her vanilla lip balm, licking her bottom lip.

It was right in every sense it could be. Her breath hitched, fingers lacing with his jet-black locks as his lips now traced her neck. His sweat was even intoxicating and addicting, shivers ran down her spine as he approached lower, his kisses turning softer on her delicate stomach.

‘‘Vincent…’’ His name came out in a moan, his cheeks tainted red at how _wonderful_ that sound was, but he slowed down for their sake. His arm resting under her waist, she smiled a little at the sensation of his head resting on the spot he had kissed seconds ago. 

‘‘Feeling a little better?’’ He traced his way up with gentle pecks and one of his gloved, clawed fingers. She slid hers under his red headband, tossing it away and letting his hair fall over his face naturally.

‘‘I _might_ need a few more of your kisses,’’ He laughed, for a moment, and pulled her on top this time, his lips meeting the skin under her shoulder straps. The gleam returning to her eyes as she rested atop his body, both curling under the sheets.

Like Yuffie would often say, it was _their_ unspoken thing.


End file.
